Belonging to the Streets

Home

The restaurant to my right is busy again. The family closest to me has a baby. I like when families bring babies. They almost always drop food. The food almost always drops near me. Every now and then, I glance over to see if their food has arrived yet. They got the baby some breaded tenders, a few fries.

The kid goes to town shredding up the chicken. Some of the remains fall near me. I gather them. They move on to the fries. Multiple fall where the chicken landed. I add them to the chicken in my hand. The adults got the baby to stop. This is my lunch for today.

I eat one piece at a time, savoring the rare delicacy. This only happens a few times a year. I got really lucky today. I wouldn't need to fish for donuts in the dumpster today. That's nice.

I lick the excess grease off my fingers. I've heard people say grease isn't a good thing. They say it's a type of fat. They say too much fat can make you gain weight. I think I need to gain weight. I say fat is a good thing.

"That's unsanitary"

My eyes crack open in surprise. I whip my head to my left. The boy's back again.

"It's still good"

"You shouldn't eat food that's hit the pavement"

"Why are you here? I thought you were gone"

"Just because I haven't shown up for a bit doesn't mean I'm gone"

I wish you were.

"I already told you, I don't need some building filled with people, that claim to love each other, that you call 'home.' These streets are my home"

"How long have you been on these streets?"

"13 years"

"How old are you?"

This kid is pissing me off.

"17"

"Your parents abandoned you when you were 4?"

"Yup"

"And no one helped you?"

"Mhm"

"...I'm 17 as well"

That shocked me. I have no idea why. But, I felt...happy that he was my age. I felt like I could maybe have a friend after all this time.

"...What's your name?"

I guess the question surprised him. We sat in silence, me facing the road and him facing me, for a hot second. It's like he forgot his name.

"James. James Crystal. Yours?"

"Birdie"

"No last name?"

"No last name"

I only knew my name because my birth-givers would constantly shout at me. They'd always start with "BIRDIE" or "GOD DAMN IT BIRDIE" or "ARE YOU SERIOUS BIRDIE?" Over time, I assumed it was my name. They never told me directly. Just shouted it at me.

"Are you sure you don't want to come home with me?"

No.

"Yes"

"Alright"

He got up. I didn't want him to leave. I want to go with him. But, I'm not risking it. Whenever I set foot into a home, people are constantly yelling. Yelling at me. Saying how much of a burden I am. And they're right. I am a burden. I'm just a nuisance. I just waste all their money. All their food. All their clothes. All their time. All their love. I'm just a loveless person.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"ARE YOU SERIOUS BIRDIE?"

Mom barged into the living room. The book that was in my hands was now on the floor. The pages are all messed up and some are folded. I do my best to flatten it all out as Mom continues yelling.

"A 95 ON YOUR MATH QUIZ? IT'S ADDING AND SUBTRACTING, WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?"

"I sometimes forget to carry the numbers..."

"What did you say? Are you talking back to me?"

Isn't that how a conversation works?

"No, Ma'am"

"God, you're such a mistake. I should've listened to my mother to get abortion. GO TO THE BASEMENT. NO DINNER TONIGHT"

My grip tightened around the thick book in my hands. I stomped down the steps and sat in the middle of the dark, dusty basement. I could barely make out the words printed onto the pages of my book. I read anyways.

"If Mom only looked up to see me reading above my grade level..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes shot open. I sat up just as fast. I haven't dreamed about my days in hell for years. They only started to happen when James arrived in my life. James...

I hugged my knees to my chest, reminiscing on the colored boy. Mom told me people of color are terrible. She's wrong. It's people that are devoid of color who are terrible. Dad told me queer people are terrible. He's wrong. It's people that are straight who are terrible. They lied a lot.

I miss James. I want him next to me. I want to listen to his voice. I want to answer his questions. I want to touch his hands, arms, maybe even hug him. I want to get to know him. He's the only person who's shown me kindness. I wish to return the favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was a no food day. No one dropped even a crumb of their meal or snack. So donut dumpster it is. I hop the fence, grab a couple donuts this time, and hop back over. I add two more scratches to my legs. I always scratch them when hopping the fence. Sometimes even cutting them.

I feel a thick liquid start to slowly run down my leg. I look down to see a huge gash below my knee. I quickly put the two donuts on some newspaper. I rip off some of the newspaper and wipe off the blood. I hold the newspaper there as I eat my only food for today. I already cut myself in this place before. I guess I accidentally opened it again.

"Don't use that, it's dirty"

My head immediately looked up to see James standing there, a couple napkins in his hand.

"It's all I have"

"Use these"

He holds out the napkins. I take the newspaper off my cut and he starts to quickly clean up the blood with one napkin. Once he's done, he puts the other one over my cut.

"Hold it"

I follow his instructions. I hold the napkin in place and pick up the donut I was eating. I hold one end with my hand, the other with my teeth. I rip it half and give James the half in my hand.

"No, I'm not hungry. Besides, you need it more than I do"

I put the half back on the newspaper and eat the one in my mouth.

"You should come with me"

I looked over at him. He wants to take me home. I want to follow him.

"We'll be able to clean up your cut at my house"

"...Ok"

I search for something to hold the napkin in place. I see bandages near me. I grab them and wrap them around the napkin. Standing up, I motion for James to lead the way.

As James takes the lead, we walk through busy streets and crowds of people. The streets are very packed. I got very claustrophobic. I reached for James' hand and held on tight. He looked back at me in astonishment for a split second, then continued to walk. I held his hand until we reached his home near the outskirts of the city.

"Here we are"

He opened the door and stepped in. I repeat his actions. I stepped inside. I looked around.

I braced for impact.